


Crossover Fic: Broken Pieces ( Firefly/Doctor Who)

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Firefly
Genre: Bittersweet, Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal helps Inara out with some crime. The Doctor risks a paradox. How two timelines meet and don’t cross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title** : Broken Pieces (1/3)  
 **Fandoms** : Firefly/Doctor Who  
 **Characters/Pairings** : Mal/Inara, Kaylee, Doctor/Rose (Nine/Rose & Ten/Rose), Jack  
 **Summary** : Mal helps Inara out with some crime. The Doctor risks a paradox. How two timelines meet and don’t cross.  
 **Spoilers** : DW through to "Voyage of the Damned." Firefly post-BDM.  
 **Rating** : PG13  
 **Word Count** : 2, 485  
 **A/N** : The god of fanfic writers doth said: “Thou shalt not write multi-era fic _and_ crossover fic at the same time.” And then I did it anyway. *collapses*

Hugest thanks to [](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/profile)[**intrikate88**](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hjea.livejournal.com/profile)[**hjea**](http://hjea.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Best minions ever! *smooch*

“Conning’s practically a sport on Persephone,” Mal explains. His arm almost brushes up against hers as they walk down the busy market. “Gotta be alert.”

“I know that,” Inara says, a little too quickly. Despite the heat, she tugs on her bag and pulls it closer to her chest.

Mal gives her a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I didn’t want your rent.”

Inara looks away. “I know that. I just… I want to contribute. I can’t sit in my shuttle all day and sketch pictures, Mal.”

He almost smiles. “Just don’t seem right, you selling your things on account of me.”

She snorts. “Hardly.” She shrugs. “They’re just things, Mal. They don’t mean anything to me. Do you think I’d sell things I was attached to? _Really_?”

They’ve had this conversation before.

“Suppose not,” Mal says after a pause. Then he grabs her by the arm and yanks her out of the way as a cart swerves to avoid hitting a big blue box. Inara’s eyes linger only for a second before he speaks again.

“Like I said, gotta be on guard,” Mal says.

“I _have_ been to Persephone before, you know,” Inara says, amused. Mal waits a moment too long before releasing her.

“Not this part of Persephone,” he mutters. “Ain’t used to it.”

She raises her eyebrows, not sure whether or not to be offended. “ _And_?”

“You ain’t a criminal, Inara,” Mal says. “Don’t know how to think like one.”

There’s something patronizing in his tone. “And how, exactly, does a criminal mastermind think? You are the expert.”

He ignores the dig. “First rule—you blend in, walk down the street like you belong.”

Inara avoids stepping in someone’s rancid vomit. “I’m sure you have ample experience blending into places like this.”

Mal steers her around the vomit and to a jewelry stand. The woman behind the table glances up from her magazine and gives them a twisted smile. Her two front teeth are missing.

“G’day, Ma’am,” she says. “Can I be helping you?”

Mal makes a show of studying the jewelry. “Could be so,” he says without looking up.

“Actually, yes,” Inara says. “I have some things you might be interested in?”

Inara carefully opens the top of the bag. Inside it are expensive scarves and silks; gifts from old clients. The woman’s eyes widen and the tip of her tongue pokes out between her two front teeth. Inara knows right away she’s going to try and con her.

Mal mutters something under his breath.

Inara doesn’t look at him. “What?”

“Could you just… let me handle this?” Mal says. “Sort of needs the touch of a professional, darling.”

Inara rolls her eyes. “Mal. Please.”

“I’m serious,” he hisses, still pretending to be engrossed in the jewels on the table (he stares particularly hard a pair of earrings with sparkling sequins on them). “She’s going to try’n con you.”

“Oh, really?” Inara says.

“Just… listen carefully,” Mal says. “Can get out of here one up. Just follow my lead.” He glances around him and then hunkers down near the table. “Gorramit.”

Inara considers arguing just to annoy him, but only says, “What?”

“Tourists,” he says, crouching down even _lower_ to the table. The woman hastily scrambles behind the magazine again, a bland look descending over her eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

Mal leans in to whisper in her ear. “Three folk on your right side. They ain’t blending in.”

Inara glances over and can tell right away that Mal’s right.

A blonde girl about Kaylee’s age chews thoughtfully on her thumb as she studies the jewelry on the table. “Oh, those are beautiful.”

The older of her two male companions scowls and pokes at the jewelry with a blinking blue stick. “Beautiful or not, these readings are far too advanced. I don’t understand. This shouldn’t belong to humans. Not for another two-hundred years.”

“Those sure are some real threatening sparkly scarves, Doctor," says the other male companion. “What are we doing in the desert, anyway? I thought I heard something about beaches. They have these gorgeous ones on Santa Pesos, the year 3090. What do you think, Rose?”

“Sounds great.”

“They’re nude beaches,” mutters the Doctor.

Rose straightens. “Oh.”

“Great chips, though,” continues the other one. “Never had any others like it.”

Rose looks interested again, but the Doctor comes up behind her and says, “Different kind of chips.”

“Well,” she says, “we could always drop Jack off…”

“And wait for the trouble to start! Fantastic idea.”

They share a grin and then he turns back to poking at the scarves with the blinking blue stick.

The vendor clears her throat and the three of them pause, looking up guiltily.

“Captain Jack Harkness,” says the younger of the men. He sticks out his hand and flashes a winning smile. “And who are you?”

The vendor stares at Jack’s outstretched hand and doesn’t smile.

Very slowly, he pulls his hand back, anxious look on his face. “Well, that’s new.”

Rose pats him on the arm. “Can’t win them all.”

Jack still looks dumbfounded. “Was it the tone of voice, do you think? Should I have opened with a compliment?”

“Come on,” Rose says kindly. “We’ll get you some ice cream.” She slowly starts to lead him away. “Doctor?”

He looks up from the jewelry, blinking blue stick hanging in mid-air. “But—”

“It’s okay. You can finish up here,” Rose says. “Jack and I can go on our own.”

“Yeah,” says Jack. “Rose will look out for me.”

The Doctor glances at Rose’s hand on Jack’s arm, to Jack’s smug face, and then puts the blinking stick inside his jacket. “I don’t think so.” He forces a smile at the vendor. “Have a nice day.”

The vendor scowls and doesn’t answer.

Inara waits until the trio is out of earshot. “That was… odd.”

“Tourists,” Mal mutters. He shoots their retreating backs a disapproving look. “They keep talkin’ like that, they’ll get a bullet in their brainpan for the troubles.”

The vendor snorts. “Don’t got no pity for ‘em. They ain’t got a right to come in ‘ere and pick at my hard earned commodities.”

“Commodities acquired off the black market,” Inara whispers quietly. She smiles daintily when Mal shoots her a look.

“Best _not_ to insult a potential business partner, ‘Nara.”

“Right, of course,” Inara says. “I _should_ have opened by shooting her. I’m so grateful you’re here.”

Mal looks injured. He had been eager to bring her out here. Like he was proud he could give her _something_ , even if it was just Persephone’s underground economy.

“I’m sorry,” Inara says quietly. She looks him in the eye. “And thank you. For helping me with this.”

His eyes widen and she sees a genuine smile tug at his mouth, but before he can say anything, a new voice interrupts them.

“Ooh, I remember this.” The man pushes his way between them. He leans over the table, wearing a pair of glasses. “Not from around these parts; that’s what I said!”

“ _Who duh ma_ ,” Mal says. He folds his arms over his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

The man waves a hand at Mal to shush him. “But for what purpose…? Unless…? No.”

The expression on Mal’s face indicates he’s considering shooting the stranger. Inara ducks around the man and goes to stand at Mal’s side.

“What in the _guay_ is going on?” Mal says. “There was… and now… and then he…”

“I… don’t know. Just… don’t shoot him,” she adds. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Mal looks disappointed. The stranger continues to mutter to himself.

“It’s a coating! Yes, that’s it! It’s not the objects themselves—they’ve just been infused with extra technology… upgraded, as it were. Mind you, it’s not a very slick operation. No wonder I recognized it right away.”

Like Mal, the man is wearing a long brown-coat, stopping just below his knees. Inara wonders, absurdly, how he’s holding up in Persephone’s scorching temperature.

One look at Mal tells her he’s not handling it particularly well. There’s a bead of perspiration on his forehead and he scowls impatiently at the man.

Mal bends down and braces his weight on the table. He forces the fakest looking smile Inara’s ever seen. “And who might you be?”

“The Doctor,” says the man without looking up.

Inara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Funny,” she says. “Someone else going by the same title just passed by here.”

“And t’weren’t you,” Mal adds. “So how about telling me what the hell is going on?”

The man looks up at them like he’s only just realizing they’re there. “It’s not a title, it’s my name. The Doctor.” He looks at Mal. “And how can you be sure that _wasn’t_ me?”

Mal looks like he might go with the ‘shooting him’ plan instead of the diplomatic one. Inara pointedly clears her throat.

Mal plants on the fake smile again. “Well, to start with, two of you don’t look nothing alike. And also, point of interest, he’s standing right over there, buying that lady friend of his an ice cream.”

The Doctor follows Mal’s gaze. Something in his expression softens when he sees the trio from earlier, and it’s a moment before he answers, “Ah, yes. Very astute, that. Brilliant observation.” He continues to stare at the trio, mouth forming into a thin line. “I think they’re having strawberry. How nice.”

“Do you know them?” Inara asks.

The Doctor manages to tear his gaze away. He blinks at her in surprise. “Not anymore.”

“Yeah, listen, Doc,” Mal says, running a hand over his face. “Might be Persephone, but stalking’s still a crime. You wanna clear out ‘fore I call the feds?”

“Mal,” Inara says warningly, quite sure they would get in _far_ more trouble if they called the Alliance.

Mal holds up a hand to shush her, but the vendor cuts in, “Not nobody’s callin’ the feds,” says the vendor. “Ya’ hear?”

“No,” says the Doctor. “No, you wouldn’t want that. I was right— _he_ was right. There’s something wrong with this jewelry. Something very, very wrong.” He glances at the items and then back at the vendor. “Alien pollen. It’s all over them. I picked the scans up on the sonic screwdriver, but I didn’t make the connection. Not back then. You’re using it to control people, aren’t you? How much are they paying you?”

The vendor’s eyes harden. “I don’t got no idea what you mean. Why don’t you just move along?”

“Hold on,” Mal says. “Control people? You mean like slavery?”

Inara’s hand goes to her mouth and she shoots the vendor a horrified look.

“Oh, slavery’s just the tip of it,” the Doctor says. His gaze hardens. “This substance? It’s banned on practically every civilized planet. And for good reason. It gets inside you, implants suggestions.”

“Mind control?” Inara says.

The Doctor shoots her an approving look. “Exactly.”

“Whoa, now,” Mal says. “You are aware we’re looking at a sparklin’ array of jewelry, ain’t you, Doctor?”

“Mal,” Inara says quietly. She drops her voice. “You and I know first hand what mind control can do to a person.”

She watches the realization dawn in his eyes. River. Miranda. Even if this man is a lunatic, they can’t take the chance. Never again.

The Doctor is no longer paying attention to them. “Pack it up,” he says. “All of it. Tonight.”

The vendor doesn’t flinch. “If I don’t?”

“Oh, believe me, the last thing you want is for me to shut it down for you.”

Mal and Inara exchange a look.

“Surely there’s some authority we can appeal to,” Inara begins. Mal vehemently shakes his head. “We can’t just… just let her go.”

The Doctor takes off his glasses and studies Inara. “What’s your name?”

“Inara,” she answers without thinking about it. “Inara Serra.”

Next to her, she hears Mal smack himself on the forehead and mutter something that sounds like, “ _Code_ names! Ain’t helpful unless you use ‘em!”

“Fine, then. Call in your police—or what is it? Your Alliance. Yes. That’s it.”

Inara doesn’t look away. “We… we can’t do that.”

“Ah,” says the Doctor. His eyes tick to the bag she’s carrying. “I see.”

She can sense Mal growing tenser. “You can call them in, can’t you? Leave an anonymous tip?”

“Suppose so,” he says slowly. “But I suspect this will be all gone by the time they get here. Isn’t that so?”

He turns his gaze to the vendor who scowls at him with deformed teeth. “I don’t know who you are, but I sure as hell don’t intimidate easy.”

“Neither do I,” says the Doctor evenly. “But you will pack up, close up shop, and get rid of it. _All_ of it. You won’t sell to one more person.”

He doesn’t give the vendor a chance to answer. Instead, he grins broadly and backs up. “Well, then! I’ll just be off. People to follow. Not my best idea, mind. Well, it was Jack’s idea first. Should’ve been enough to tip me off, eh? Inara Serra, it was very nice to meet you.”

Then he moves off, hands sunk into his pockets.

“Wait,” Inara says. “Who _are_ you?”

Mal coughs out something that sounds like, “Off his nut!”

He turns around, once. “I’m the Doctor.”

And then he’s gone.

Inara feels Mal’s stare like a weight on the back of her neck. Slowly, she turns to meet his gaze.

“Making friends?” he drawls.

Inara’s cheeks warm. “Not at all.”

“Oh, really? Seems just your type, too. All…” he searches for the right word and finally lands on, “fancy-sounding.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Inara hisses. “And just in case it’s slipped your mind, Captain, I haven’t mentioned taking on a single client since coming back onboard Serenity. What do you think that says?”

Mal opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, but before he can say anything, the vendor interrupts. “You wanted to be sellin’ me some things, dearie?”

Inara takes a step back. “No. I don’t think so.”

Mal chuckles to himself. It’s not an amused chuckle. “We ain’t going to be selling you anything, lady. Slavery’s a harsh charge.”

“And you believe ‘im?” says the vendor. “Man was talking crazy. Couldn’t follow more’n two words at a time, myself.”

“Neither could I,” Mal admits. “But I’ve seen enough to know a man when he knows what he’s talkin’ about. If this here is contraband for the slave trade, you won’t be getting nothing from us. What do you reckon, Inara?”

“I think it would be wise for you to follow the Doctor’s instructions,” says Inara. “Pack up shop.”

“Ain’t no room left in this ‘verse for heroes,” says the vendor. “You need money and I got it.”

“Walkin’ away don’t make us heroes,” Mal says. He puts one hand on Inara’s arm and leads her off. “Not even close.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** : Broken Pieces (2/3)  
 **Fandoms** : Firefly/Doctor Who  
 **Characters/Pairings** : Ten/Rose, Nine/Rose, Kaylee, Jack, Mal/Inara  
 **Summary** : Mal helps Inara out with some crime. The Doctor risks a paradox. How two timelines meet and don’t cross.  
 **Spoilers** : DW through to VotD. Firefly post-BDM.  
 **Rating** : PG13  
 **Word Count** : 2, 311

 **A/N** : This chapter is pretty much about pandering to my inner crazy nut Ten/Rose ship monkey. I call it Swally.

Hugest thanks to [](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/profile)[**intrikate88**](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hjea.livejournal.com/profile)[**hjea**](http://hjea.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Best minions ever! *smooch*

([Chapter 1](http://community.livejournal.com/teawiles/17070.html#cutid1))

The Doctor only glances back at the vendor once. He’s satisfied when the couple leaves without selling anything.

He moves on. He passes a fruit stand, a brothel, and a landing pad. His eyes linger on one of the ships, a bit run-down, but solid, with powerful engines and a large cargo bay.

He strolls casually—like he’s not risking a paradox… not stalking a younger version of Rose. He’s forgotten things about her. She’d been so young, back then. And there was that way she looked at him. Like she knew everything in him had been crushed by the Time War and she would do anything to make it better if he asked.

He turns away and tries to focus on something else. His eyes land on a pile of spare engine parts and he wanders over.

He takes in most of the parts with a quick glance. He needs something small; something to plug the holes and cracks under the console left behind by the run-in with the Titanic.

( _“The TARDIS does know it’s you, doesn’t she?”_

_“I’m sorry?”_

_Rose blows out a breath that suggests he’s the one being daft and waves her hand up and down. “You know, ‘cause you’re all… different now. Brown and not ginger, remember?”_

_She doesn’t sound accusing this time. He decides that’s progress._

_“I regenerated,” he mumbles. “It’s not like going to a lot and trading in a used car! Of course the TARDIS knows it’s me. I have done this before, you know.”_

_But at least she’s not asking about Jack. He knows he’ll lie when she finally does._

_A slow grin lights up her face. He’s immediately suspicious._

_“How many times have you regenerated, then? Can I see pictures?”_

_He hastily pulls down a lever on the console. “Whoops! Looks like we’re about to crash land. We’ll have to pick this conversation up again sometime later. How unfortunate.”_ )

“This is what ya’ want, right here. I can always tell.”

The Doctor blinks, slowly coming out of the memory. There’s a round, black disk under his nose. He follows the spare part to a hand and finally settles his gaze on a hopeful and earnest smile.

“Hey,” says the girl. “I’m Kaylee. It sort’a looked like you could use some help.”

He musters up a smile. “I’m the Doctor,” he says. He glances at the pipe. “Where did you find that?”

“Just under there,” she tilts her head in the direction of something that looks eerily like a birdcage. “You’re a doctor, huh?”

“Yup,” he says, shifting his attention to the pipe. He thinks it might actually do the trick. He could use it under the console to help connect the dematerialization pump to the feedback loop. “Do you mind if I…?”

Kaylee hands him the pipe, rocking back on her heels and studying him with a gentle curiosity. “I’m good with machines,” she explains. “Know how to talk to ‘em.”

He turns the pipe over in his hands. “Sorry, what is this called?”

“Respondar,” Kaylee says. “What brings you to a place like Persephone, anyway? Ain’t hard to tell you’re a mite out of place down here with common folk like us.”

He lowers the pipe and _really_ looks at her. “Oh, Kaylee, there is no such thing as common folk.”

He bends down as something else catches his eye and emerges with a hook the size of his hand.

“Aha!” Kaylee says. “A Dreadman’s Notch. Been tryin’ to set one up on Serenity. Startin’ to worry it might be a mite complicated for her. She’s a solid engine, Serenity, but she don’t like it when I try’n shine her up with new-age parts. Cap’n always says it’s ‘cause she can tell they’re made by the Alliance, but that don’t mean they’re all _feioo_. Maybe she just needs a new tract, is all.” Kaylee pauses for a breath, but then continues brightly, “You lookin’ for transport, is that it? Serenity can always do for more passengers.”

“Um, no, I’m just…” he trails off ineffectively, suddenly realizing how absurd it is to think that going back in time to watch Rose would somehow make it easier to stop thinking about her.

He ought to keep moving. Trouble is, ever since Martha and Jack took off, ever since Astrid, an empty TARDIS is about the _last_ place he wants to be.

( _“What are you going to do?”_

_“Oh, I’ve still got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords.”_

_He tries to smile, but Rose looks devastated. Her tears are making it harder for her to speak. “On your own?”_

_He nods. He can’t think of what else to say._

_“I lo—” she can’t quite get it out the first time, but she pulls herself together. She glances away once, but turns back to him. “I love you.”_

_“Quite right, too.” She nods and almost looks like she might laugh, but she can’t stop her sobs. “And I suppose—if it’s my last chance to say it—” He pauses. “Rose Tyler…”_ )

He closes his eyes. Not good memories.

“We’re a good crew,” Kaylee continues. “Don’t ask questions. Like to leave ya’ alone, is all. And Serenity’ll get you anywhere in this ‘verse.” She frowns. “Maybe not the Core. We don’t go out there much. Doctor?”

He opens his eyes to Kaylee’s concerned gaze. He forces a smile and says, “I don’t need transport, Kaylee. Things to do. Important… possibly universe altering things.”

Kaylee shakes her head, amused. “Well, if you change your mind, we’re sittin’ just over there. There ain’t no ship in the ‘verse better’n Serenity.”

“I’m sure she’s quite… lovely,” he manages. He finds her gaze. “And… thank you. For your help.”

He nods to the spare parts in his hands. Kaylee beams. “You’re welcome.”

( _“What about this one?” Rose points at a pink figurine made out of glass._

_“The goddess Tess!” he says. Rose smiles encouragingly. “Um, no.”_

_Her smile falters. “Why not?”_

_“God of purity,” the Doctor says. “Not… really your mother.” Rose narrows her eyes. “Not that—I mean, Jackie Tyler is very… Ooh, how about this one?”_

_He fixes on his glasses and then jerks his head in the opposite direction. Rose raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment._

_“Bezoolium,” he says. “Tells you what the weather’s going to be.” He crouches down to examine it. “Quite remarkable, really. Senses atmospheric patterns. Sort of… analyzes what’s in the air.” He turns to look at her. “What?”_

_“You do realize you’re shopping for my mum, yeah?” Rose says. “What’s it called? A Bazooka-thingie?”_

_“Bezoolium,” he corrects before her words hit him. “Hold on—I never said I was—”_

_“Credits, please?” Rose holds out her hand._

_He begins to dig through his pockets. “You were buying. I was… making suggestions. Giving you a push in the right direction. Dispensing sage advice.”_

_Rose’s fingers snap. “Save it for the jury, buddy. You can’t fool me.” She leans forward, closer than is strictly necessary. “Do you even know what currency this planet uses?”_

_“Of course I do!” he huffs. “It’s just—in here… somewhere…”_

_Rose shrugs and sticks her hand in the opposite pocket—presumably to help—and then gets a thoughtful look on her face. “I think I found the key to the pool room.”_

_“Really? I’ve been looking all over for that.”_

_“And… is that the jam from the pantry?”_

_“Is it raspberry?” he asks hopefully. Rose determinedly moves closer in order to solve this very important question, providing him with a nice whiff of her hair. Oranges and vanilla extract. Not bad._

_“AHEM!”_

_They jump apart like they’ve just been caught sneaking into the biscuit jar at Jackie’s. A graying man stares down his nose at them, cane waving ominously in the air._

_“Well,” the Doctor says brightly. “Found the currency! Come along, then.” He grabs Rose’s hand and heroically pulls her out swinging cane range. She presses her face against his shoulder to muffle her snorts of laughter._ )

The Doctor searches through his pockets—psychic paper, yo-yo from that gift shop in Wyoming, a half-eaten purple crayon—before finding Alliance approved credits.

He goes to pay for the parts. When he looks around, he’s grateful that Rose has moved out of his line of vision.

He turns around and runs smack into his former self.

Oh, bugger. For a split second, he considers smiling innocently and then moving on, but the damage is done. It was stupid to think he wouldn’t sense himself. Those senses had been all but dead since the Time War. He’d probably been aware of himself from the moment he materialized onto the planet.

They look each other up and down. He feels a fond tug at the sight of that old leather jacket. Dependable, that jacket—if a little retro looking. Of course, he had found it in the back of the TARDIS’s wardrobe. Under a mid-nineteenth century corset, oddly enough.

“Um, hello,” he manages. He hesitates and then adds, “Doctor.”

He gets a stony glare in response. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, there was just this… this sort of….” He waves his arms in the direction of the jewelry stand. “Alien pollen? Which you—I was right about, so congratulations on that.”

His other self doesn’t crack a smile.

“Are you completely stupid?” he says. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Did you wake up this morning and think, ‘Oh, today would be a good day for a paradox. I think I’ll go crossing my own timeline. I’ll have the best seats for when the universe implodes! Won’t that be nice?’”

“I can see how one might… draw that conclusion,” he begins. Was his last incarnation always this tall? Or is he imagining things? “Mistaken conclusion, by the way. I just…”

He has to look away, squinting at a point over his former self’s shoulder. He can just make out Rose and Jack in the background. Rose has a smear of strawberry ice cream on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth. Jack thinks it’s funny. He swallows.

He slowly returns his gaze to his past self. “Rose doesn’t recognize me. Can’t.”

There’s a hint of panic in his former self’s eyes and he realizes he’s gone and given the whole thing away. He clenches his jaw together, determined not to let anything else slip.

“It doesn’t matter,” says his younger self. “Is that why you’re here?”

He goes on the defensive. “I can’t tell you.” He jabs a finger in his other self’s direction. “Shouldn’t even be talking to you. Could cause… bad things. Universe in peril and all that.”

“Oh, don’t go lecturing me. I think I’ve got the dynamics of temporal time well covered, thanks.” He stops, and begins to look appalled. He narrows his eyes. “I’m all… pretty.”

“Well,” he says, pride slipping into his tone. “I am quite—”

“—if a bit on the thin side. Regeneration process is a bit dodgy, though, isn’t it? Never really know what you’ll end up with. Just look at my hair. Would a haircut kill you? And the shoes.”

“What?!” He glances down at his shoes. One hand goes defensively into his hair. “These are excellent for running. And… and I like my hair!”

His other self rolls his eyes. He looks far more cheerful now that he’s had the opportunity to insult him.

“Take my advice,” he says. He leans forward and drops his voice. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. Get back in the TARDIS and leave.”

“And you would know that, would you?”

“Yeah, I would,” he says. “Do you think I’ve never thought about going back? Thought about seeing if there’s a time period where Gallifrey still exists?”

He doesn’t answer. The question is redundant, after all. Of course he knows.

His other self pulls away. “You should go.”

“Yeah.” He makes his voice sound as sincere as possible. Even if he’s thinking about other times and dates.

_February 13, 2006, Rose had tea with her mother while he puttered around with the TARDIS. The Doona system, the year 458790, they lost each other in a forest for two days. April 13, 2009, shopping at Tesco and Rose wandered off to the pharmacy…_

He turns away. The TARDIS would stop him from doing anything too stupid. He’s sure of it.

“Doctor.”

He pauses, hands shoved to his pockets. “What is it?”

“When does it happen?”

He turns back around, squinting in the sun. “I can’t—” he begins, and then decides to lie. “A long time from now.”

His other self looks satisfied by this answer, but he looks up at the sky, checking for reapers or hell beasts or any other sort of catastrophic rip in time. Nothing.

With some disappointment, he shifts his gaze back to his past self, but he’s gone back to Rose and Jack. He watches them for another few seconds, and has to concede that this version is a sorry excuse for the real thing.

Right, then. Enough of this. Rose—his Rose—future Rose—whatever—would have his head if she knew he was doing this. Besides, the TARDIS kept trying to tell him there was a nasty infestation of Squandron Aliens in the year 20 Apple 13, and it _had_ been a while since he’d run away from a fire breathing monster.

He takes two steps forwards and then stops abruptly, tripping over his own feet. There, in the desert floor, are two words etched into the sand, their edges already fading from the wind.

_BAD WOLF_

It’s only when his respiratory bi-pass system kicks in that he remembers to start breathing again. He glances behind him—Rose, Jack, and the younger him are heading back towards town. In a few seconds, the message will fade.

It’s not meant for them.

The thought hits him hard and he takes a step back. ( _Am I ever going to see you again? You can’t._ ) His eyes are drawn back to the message, now reading _AD WO_. But it had been there. No denying that.

He hadn’t lied to Rose (not about that—never), but he’s been wrong before.

He smiles down at the words. Oh, yes. He’s been wrong before, sometimes more than he’d like to count. This time, it’s worth hoping for.

He only moves forward when the wind finishes, erasing the words from the desert floor.

 

****

 **Author’s Notes/References** :  
I wrote most of this fic before _Voyage of the Damned_ , but considering VotD was fairly dark for a “Christmas” episode, I don’t think it’s entirely out of the realm of possibility that the Doctor would be missing Rose more than ever. I vaguely considered calling this chapter “the Tenth Doctor needs a hug,” but decided to give him Bad Wolf instead. As one does.

I borrowed some dialogue from “Doomsday.” Don’t ask me _why_. There was probably enough sadness in here without it. Please give Russell T Davies all the credit for that one. No, really. _Please_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title** : Broken Pieces (3/3)  
 **Fandoms** : Firefly/Doctor Who  
 **Characters/Pairings** : Mal/Inara, Kaylee, Zoe, Ten, Nine, Jack, Doctor/Rose  
 **Summary** : Mal helps Inara out with some crime. The Doctor risks a paradox. How two timelines meet and don’t cross.  
 **Spoilers** : DW through to VotD. No S4 spoilers. Firefly post-BDM.  
 **Rating** : PG13  
 **Word Count** : 2, 528  
 **A/Ns** : At the end. Because I’m chatty. :D  
Thanks to [](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/profile)[**intrikate88**](http://intrikate88.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hjea.livejournal.com/profile)[**hjea**](http://hjea.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Any mistakes are probably still mine.

  
It doesn’t take them long to walk back to Serenity. They pass a blue box sitting by the side of the road, just on the outskirts of town, and Inara feels a prickle of recognition on the back of her neck. Mal’s hand on her back hurries her forward and she ignores the strange sensation. She knows Mal is eager to leave the planet as soon as possible.

When they reach Serenity, Mal disappears onto the bridge and she hears him yelling irritably into the comms a moment later.

Inara takes her bag to the galley. There, she dumps her items out on the table and then stands back to study them. Three scarves. Ten pieces of china. Seven bracelets. Fifteen pairs of earrings. Twenty pearl necklaces. All together, she’s amassed a small fortune.

“You know, wouldn’t’a thought the galley would be the best place for this sort of thing.”

Inara gives a tight smile to acknowledge Mal’s presence, but she doesn’t look up. Instead, she folds her arms over her chest and gives a small shrug. “I needed someplace where I could set them out.” Her eyes travel over the expansive collection. “I’d forgotten I had some of these.”

Mal comes to stand next to her. His shoulder bumps hers, one arm leaning against her elbow. She swallows but says nothing.

“Could try again,” Mal says. “Could try’n sell ‘em to someone else.”

Inara avoids answering the question. “Did you get in touch with the rest of the crew?”

“They’re on their way.” Mal pauses and then says, “You could keep your things, Inara. We ain’t never going to live like those Alliance folk, but we get by. So long as Serenity’s still flying, it ain’t a bad life.”

“I never implied that it wasn’t.” She manages a small smile. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He blinks, and then looks smug. “Could be that we need somebody a mite more diplomatic. To keep up appearances for public relations and all.”

She raises her eyebrows, amused. “Mal, are you offering me a job?”

“I, uh… I suppose I am.” The smugness fades and he turns serious. “Hell, Inara. Name it. Whatever it is you need to stay.”

His mouth hangs open like he wants to say more, but he abruptly pulls away, wandering over to the table like he’s suddenly entranced by her things.

Inara fingers one of the scarves, brushing the material over the inside of her palm. She doesn’t know what to say.

Mal startles her. “Might be that you’ll need ‘em one day.”

“It’s hard to plan for the future on a ship like this, isn’t it?”

“Is at that,” Mal says. “If it ain’t the Alliance, it’s Reevers or—hell, something worse. I reckon it’d be good for you to have a fall back.”

She hears his unspoken words. _In case you decide you want to leave again one day._ Instead of responding, she takes a deep breath and say, “Do you think she’s gone?”

He squints at her in confusion. “Who what now?”

“That woman,” Inara says. “In town. The one the Doctor said was—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mal says, waving a hand like the mere memory is something unpleasant. “It’s not our place, Inara. It’s likely that market will be crawling with Alliance feds in a few hours time. I aim to get us off this rock before then.”

Then he grabs a comm out of his right pocket and says, “Zoe, any chance you could tell me you’ve found Jayne yet? We should’a left this planet more’n an hour ago.”

“No sign of him yet, sir. About to try looking inside Madam Redwood’s Slinky Kitty Parlour.”

“You’re a brave woman, Zoe.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

Mal shuts off the comm and nods to himself. “All according to plan. Nothing to be worrying over.”

The words barely leave his mouth when the floor beneath them violently convulses.

“What in the—” Mal begins, the sudden shock throwing him off his feet. Inara manages to grab the end of a counter and hold on. Inside the cupboards, she can hear the dishes smashing and breaking against the wood paneling.

Her things slide off the table, crashing to the floor on top of Mal. He sputters when a scarf gets caught in his mouth. He yanks it out, grabbing onto one of the table’s legs as the ship continues to buck and rock with the force of the earth.

Inara winces when the jewel earrings scatter across the floor, some shattering under the table, others skidding under the oven. The pearl necklace breaks into pieces and hits the floor with soft _pops_.

Mal manages to hook his arm around one of the table’s legs, and grabs at the comm with his other hand. “Kaylee?”

The comm crackles to life. “Cap’n?”

“Who the hell did we piss off this time around?”

“It’s the whole planet,” Kaylee responds, voice snapping over the comm. “Whole town’s a mess. Is Serenity doing okay?”

“She’s holding up,” Mal says. “You get back here soon as you can, _dong ma_?”

“I’m tryin’ but it ain’t easy going. What about the others? Are Simon and River...?”

Mal glances at Inara, and she shrugs helplessly.

After a second, he replies. “They’re on their way, Kaylee. You worry about your own self.”

“Cap’n?” she sounds worried. And then, “Hang on a second, will ya’?”

“Kaylee? Is there somebody there with you?”

“Just… just one second, Cap’n.”

“Kaylee,” Mal says again, voice rising. “What in the gorram hell is going on over there?”

Inara rolls her eyes. “That’s the solution,” she says. “Yell as loudly as you can.”

Mal ignores her and glares at the comm as if that might answer all his questions.

Howling wind crackles through the comm, punctuated by the roaring of tearing earth and terrified screaming.

Then they hear a familiar voice. “Now, don’t be alarmed. This is all fairly routine, actually. An earthquake is just the universe’s way of sealing a wound. No fuss, no muss. Just cut off the tainted part and everything should sort itself out. Brilliant, really, in a ruthless sort of way. Are you alright?”

Mal visibly twitches. “Is that…?”

Before Inara can answer, Kaylee responds to the voice. “I think so. Doctor, what do you mean? What’s the universe got to do with an earthquake?”

“Man is crazy. That’s why,” Mal mutters before dragging the comm back to his mouth. “ _Kaylee_?!”

“Be right there, Cap’n!” Kaylee replies.

There is more hissing and crackling, and then the Doctor says, “The time differential has shorted out. Same person, same time—it’s like… like a chair folding in on itself. If the earthquake doesn’t take care of it now, the entire universe will collapse.”

Kaylee’s voice sounds more alarmed. “Can you do something?”

“Well, It’s sort of… my fault to begin with.” He sounds faintly embarrassed. “Anyway, I’ll be off. Everything should snap itself back into place.” He pauses. “I hope.”

Inara forgets that they’re too far away to hear her. “You _hope_?” she screeches. “ _Wuo duh ma_.”

Mal glances at her in amusement, but then shakes his head and focuses on their predicament. “Kaylee, you tell the Doctor that I’m gonna need a lot more than a pile of _fay hwa_.”

“It’s not _nonsense_!” says the Doctor’s irritated voice. “You 26th century humans. Most close-minded lot I’ve ever come across.”

Another ripple hits the ship, and Inara hangs onto the counter again, knuckles beginning to turn white. Mal’s head bangs the top of the table and he lets out an angry curse. He loses his grip on the comm and it slides across the floor before banging against the stove.

Inara can just barely hear the Doctor’s voice crackling out from it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She feels a strange tightening in her chest, but the earthquake comes to a sudden stop. She jerks and lets go of the counter, falling to the floor in a heap.

“Inara—”

She looks up. Mal is crawling towards her, bleeding from a cut over one eyebrow. She moves forward to meet him, keeping close to the floor in case the earthquake starts up again.

He reaches our to grasp her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she says, sitting up. She manages a smile. “You look… banged up.”

“Part of the rugged charm,” he says and, before she can react, his arm slides across her shoulders and he hugs her. She hugs him back, letting her eyes drift shut. For just a second.

The comm snaps open. “Cap’n?”

With an apologetic smile, Mal releases her and scrambles on hands and knees for the comm. “Fine, Kaylee. We’re both fine. You?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I reckon the Doctor fixed things.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Inara mutters.

Mal nods in agreement. “You can’t just… stop an earthquake, Kaylee. That’s not the way of the ‘verse.”

That’s not what Inara meant. She thinks about what the Doctor said— _my fault to begin with_. That was the voice of someone lucid; someone who knew exactly what they were talking about. Someone, Inara hopes, is now far, far from where they are.

Kaylee’s voice draws her attention. “Everyone’s okay, Cap’n. We’re coming.”

“Well,” Mal says. “Shiny. Let’s get the hell off this rock.”

He shuts the comm off and glances at the destruction around them. “Yep,” he says cheerfully. “No way we’re going to try and sell those things of yours a second time around.”

Inara emits a small snort (a ladylike snort, she tells herself, even if she’s not sure why it matters after being tossed about like a ball in an arcade machine). “Probably wise.”

She struggles to her feet, using the handles on the cabinet to pull herself up. She idly tries to smooth out her hair and then gives up. “How soon can we leave this planet?”

She hears the cargo bay doors open with a protesting whine.

Mal picks up the comm. “Grab onto something, people. We’re leaving this planet five minutes ago.” He grins at Inara. “How about that?”

She tells herself she isn’t blushing.

*******************************************

When the earthquake finally recedes, the town is strewn with rubble. Rose pushes herself to her knees, hands grimy with sand, pebbles and—of all things—orange peel. She gingerly rises to her feet.

The Doctor pops up next to her. “Everyone alright? Rose?”

“Yeah,” she says, brushing off her pants.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Doubt we’ll get a refund on the ice cream, though.” He kicks at a pile of pink slush in the sand.

The Doctor doesn’t smile. He stares off into the sunset, mouth pushed into a grim line. “He’s gone. Good.”

“Who’s gone?” Rose says. “Doctor, what _was_ that?”

“Nothing,” says the Doctor. He turns to face her, forcing a smile. “Earthquake. Normal around these parts.”

Jack snorts. “That wasn’t any ordinary earthquake, Doctor. Want to tell us what's really going on?”

The Doctor looks uncomfortable. Rose can tell he doesn’t want to answer. Finally, he shifts his gaze and says, “Look at that.”

The ground rumbles under her feet and Rose jerks, expecting another quake. Instead, a ship gracefully takes off and glides into the atmosphere before disappearing.

“Firefly class,” says the Doctor. “Some of the best ships ever made.”

“Until the Time Agency,” Jack says.

The Doctor gives a derisive snort. “Built like paper airplanes, those things are.”

Rose rolls her eyes at their gentle bickering. It’s much cooler in the fading sunlight and she shivers, instinctively moving closer to the Doctor. She looks longingly over at the TARDIS, sitting just outside of town.

“Come on,” says the Doctor, “we’ve got work to do.”

He sets off back towards the market and Rose and Jack rush to catch up to him.

“What d’you mean?” Rose says. “Does this have something to do with that man you were speaking to?”

The Doctor stops and Rose almost runs into him. “Did you see him?”

“What?” Rose says.

“Rose, I’m serious,” says the Doctor and she swallows. “This is important. Did you get a good look at him?”

Rose glances at Jack, but he looks just as baffled. “I suppose not. That’s not my future descendant or anything, is it?”

The Doctor looks momentarily appalled, but then he schools his face into a neutral frown. “Something like that. It doesn’t matter.”

Except his expression tells her it _does_ matter. She wonders if it’s something to do with the Time War again. She remembers how he looked facing down that Dalek in Utah and the thought makes her mouth go dry.

“Rose.” The Doctor closes the distance between them and holds out a hand. She grasps it, letting their fingers entwine together. “Everything is fine. That earthquake was nothing. I promise.”

She looks down at their clasped hands and then back at his face. Sometimes, like now, she doesn’t know what to say to him. The Doctor’s fingers are warm and strong and Jack’s looking away and all these things twist and turn inside of her. She thinks of Mum, back home, drinking tea and flipping through the latest celebrity gossip magazine, or Mickey, sitting by the window and waiting for her to come back. It feels like somebody else’s life.

The Doctor tugs her closer and into what might be a half-hug. She’s not really sure, but she feels his leather jacket against her cheek and so she closes her eyes and breathes in. No, not about the Time War. It’s got something to do with her. And it scares him.

He touches her cheek with his free hand, palm barely making contact with her skin and then pulls away. The smile is gone, but so is the fear. “Listen, we’ve got to go back into town. Do you remember that woman from earlier?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He winces. “You’re about to tell me we have to go back, aren’t you? Great.”

“I have a reliable source,” the Doctor says. “He says it’s a fake operation. That technology doesn’t belong to her. And it’s up to us to stop it.”

“It’s alien?” Rose guesses.

“Worse than that,” the Doctor says. “It gets in people’s heads. Controls them.”

Jack nods, catching on. He looks grim. “Slavery.”

Rose gasps and the Doctor sends Jack an approving look. “The vendor is likely only a pawn. She might not even know the full extent of it. And hiding it out on the Core like this, it flies right under the radar of the Alliance.”

The three of them lock eyes and Rose tries to bite down on a grin. “And just think, we could be on the beaches of Santa Pesos right now.”

“Nudes don’t have anything to hide,” the Doctor says. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Actually,” Jack says. “The Time Agency taught me how to conceal a weapon in _any_ circumstance.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes, but Rose grins and says, “Okay, what do we do?”

“We stop it,” says the Doctor seriously. “And then we go for waffles.”

Jack and Rose blink at him.

“What?” he says, digging out the sonic screwdriver. “I really like waffles.”

 

********

 

 **A/N** : I thank anyone who made it through all three chapters! This fic was a bit of a departure for me. (Notes to self: [](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/profile)[**goldy_dollar**](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/) shalt not write crossover fic and multi-era fic at the same time. Nor shall she write Nine, Nine/Rose, or Jack. That way leads to madness and Tenth Doctor withdrawal pangs.)

The idea for this fic was premised on the idea of two separate storylines intersecting, but not really crossing. It seemed fairly true to life to me, that most of the time people are too wrapped up in their own problems to really notice who they interact with every day and might be influencing without being aware of it. (Or, well, as normal as one can get with criminals on the run and aliens and time travel and such.) I wanted to try a crossover where the two stories in each universe were pretty distinct but kept intersecting and meeting. I probably succeeded with varying degrees of success, but I do like how parts of it came out. Even if it took me a few months to get there. *pats self*

Also! [](http://locker-monster.livejournal.com/profile)[**locker_monster**](http://locker-monster.livejournal.com/) made me [the most perfect graphic ever](http://community.livejournal.com/teawiles/18171.html) to match with this fic. Isn't it pretty?!


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